


Let's Do the Time Warp Again

by Jackdaw816



Series: Time Loop 2.0 [1]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Gen, M/M, Multi, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26016673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackdaw816/pseuds/Jackdaw816
Summary: It's just a jump to the left. It's just a jump to the left. It's just a jump to the left.And nothing can ever be the same...
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, John Hart & Ianto Jones, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Time Loop 2.0 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936777
Comments: 10
Kudos: 58
Collections: Torchwood Fan Fests: Bingo Fest 2020





	Let's Do the Time Warp Again

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Time Warp' from Rocky Horror, of course
> 
> I had this idea for a while and so when time loop was one of my bingo squares, how could I resist? It spiraled out of control, but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Squares filled: Time loop, black and white, friendship, secrets

“This way, Eye Candy, the signal’s getting stronger!” John said cheerfully, jogging through the rows of crates with ease. Ianto followed after him, grumbling about idiot Time Agents and stupid nicknames.

“And why are you here again?” Ianto asked futilely. The real question was why Jack still trusted him after being murdered at his hands. They must have shared one hell of a time loop. John sighed.

“Like I told Jack, I was tracking a piece of tech, a Moirai loom.” They rounded a corner, and John smiled, tense and subtle. “A very powerful piece of tech. Not something you want in the wrong hands.”

“And I suppose you’re the right hands,” Ianto said, tone betraying just what he thought of that idea. John shrugged.

“I know better than to use it. Not again.” His voice was suddenly heavy with the weight of the past. “I’m going to destroy it, and then you can do whatever you want once it’s nothing but rubble.” John took another turn so quick Ianto almost lost him.

“And what exactly does this Moira loom do?” Ianto asked

“Moirai,” John corrected smugly, leaving Ianto frowning. “It’s named after some mythology from your planet, an ancient civilization even by your standards. They would be the Fates in English.” Ianto furrowed his brow.

“They controlled lifespans, didn’t they?” Ianto asked. It had been a while since he’d brushed up on his Greek mythology. John nodded.

“Three sisters, one to spin a life, one to measure how long it would last, and one to cut it when it was through,” John summarized. “This machine is similar in that it controls lifespans. Cut them short, draws them long, brings them together, or-” John was cut off by a clatter ahead. “Ah, shit.” He went for his gun, and Ianto did the same. 

“I think they’re the next row over,” Ianto murmured, quiet enough that he was certain only John could hear him. John glanced at his wrist strap and nodded. They moved almost silently, the slight rustle of fabric almost undetectable thanks to the giant fans above. As they approached the corner, John signed a halt.

“Shoot to kill,” John ordered, tone cold. “And I don’t care if it offends your delicate sensibilities, Eye Candy,” he added when Ianto made to protest. “I’m not risking it.” Ianto swallowed his complaint and nodded, short and sharp. Better to go with it now, then leave John to explain their methods to Jack should the worst come to pass.

John counted down on his fingers, three, two, one, then the pair whirled around the corner, guns at the ready. A creature was standing there, seven feet tall with carmine skin and four arms. It held what looked a lot like a silver harp although Ianto knew it must be the Moirai loom. Two arms supported the loom, the others danced over the surface, teasing and pulling the luminous white strings.

John fired, and it went stray, barely scraping the being’s wing; oh god, it had wings. Ianto fired off a shot of his own. It sunk deep into the meat of the creature’s shoulder. It screamed, surprisingly humanlike, and turned its head to face them. It had no nose or mouth, just three sets of violet, cat-like eyes. Ianto didn’t want to know how it had screamed.

“Drop the loom or the next one goes between the eyes!” John ordered, seeming unphased by its unorthodox features. He smirked. “Make that the next three.” The being flapped its wings but didn’t take off. Instead, a voice issued out, spitting words in a harsh and glottal language. John’s face paled with fear, and he fired three quick shots.

This time, the being did take off, twenty feet in the air in less than a second. John’s bullets slammed into a far crate, useless. The being seemed to behold them, all six eyes wide open. John tried to blast it out of the air, but his gun clicked empty. He swore and dropped it, going for his spare. Ianto aimed to fire himself but was startled by a voice from behind him, the shot missing by inches.

“Hey! You can’t be in here!” Ianto risked a glance behind him to see a fuming dockhand. “I’ve called the police, and bloody fuck, what the hell is that?” John sighed.

“It’s called a Theatís, and I highly suggest you run,” John said, firing a shot that the newly-named Theatís gracefully dodged. It swooped toward the dockhand, and he screamed. But rather than attacking, the Theatís just stared. John swore as the Theatís reached for the loom and pulled loose a thread.

“What is happ-” the dockhand started before choking, hands going to his throat. In the Theatís’ hand, the pearly white thread turned jet black. As the dockhand collapsed to the ground, face going blue, the thread disintegrated into ashes. The dockhand stilled, and Ianto didn’t have to check to know he was dead.

“And that is why we shoot to kill!” John snapped, real panic in his voice. His next bullet sunk deep into the Theatís’ chest, but it didn’t do more than keen. Its hands played over the loom again, carefully unhooking two threads from one end. Ianto watched as the threads, one significantly longer than the other, faded to gray.

“John,” Ianto said, feeling a sudden weight in his chest. “Are those-?” John nodded, clutching a hand to his own chest. The Theatís almost seemed to smile, knowing it had the upper hand.

“It was nice knowing you, Ianto,” John said, and the lack of nickname chilled Ianto to the bone. “We’re fucked. But if it makes you feel any better, Jack will avenge you well.” Ianto laughed, nervous and fatalistic. So this was how it ended. Dying in a warehouse with John bloody Hart. He supposed there were worse things, but he couldn’t seem to think of them.

“He shouldn’t have to,” Ianto admitted, eyes never leaving the Theatís. “It wasn’t supposed to be this soon.” John made a soft noise of agreement. The pair watched as the Theatís took their threads of life and twisted them together. Wait, what? 

“Oh no,” John breathed. Ianto could sense his fear, as palpable as his own. Actually sense it, like John’s emotions were somehow layered over his own. Oh, he did not like this. 

There was a rush of anger, and John fired off one final, hopeless shot. It ricocheted off the loom’s frame and hit the floor leaving nothing more than a dent. The Theatís said something, still incomprehensible, but judging the rush of pure dread from John, it was bad.

Ianto watched, unable to do a thing, as the Theatís took their entwined cords, tied them in a neat knot, then reattached them to the loop. At first, it seemed like nothing had happened, but then he felt a tug, psychic, but not like before with John’s emotions. This was stronger, and the whole world rippled out of focus. All Ianto could feel was his own racing heartbeat and John’s fear and rage. 

Then there was a snap, and Ianto fell to his knees, stunned. When he looked up, the Theatís and the loom were gone. John stood beside him, hands twitching and his anger flowing over Ianto in waves.

“So that backfired,” John said bitterly. Ianto must have been projecting his confusion because John kept talking. “Yes, we’re still alive. And yes, we’re still fucked.” Resignation infused every word and cascaded over their link. He walked over to Ianto and offered him a hand up. Ianto took it, albeit warily. John didn’t seem to be a threat, but he was still John. Ianto couldn’t trust him that easily.

“What happened?” Ianto asked, looking around. The dead dockhand was still there; nothing had changed besides the disappearance of the Theatís. John spat a very long chain of swears in several languages before smiling, tight and grim.

“The Theatís used the loom to tie our lifelines together. It’s why I can feel your confusion and fear. And you can feel how fucking pissed I am.” Ianto nodded. That was… not good. But they had tech that could undo low-level psychic bonds back at the Hub. Not a big problem.

But if that was all it was, John wouldn’t be pacing like a caged tiger. Something else had happened when the Theatís had knotted their threads. Something bad enough to have John scared. 

“What else did it do?” Ianto asked, clenching his fists. John shot him a pitying look and Ianto swallowed hard.

“Like I started to explain earlier, the Moirai loom controls lifespans, lifelines. It can be used to kill someone before their time, keep someone alive long past their time, tie two souls together-” John cut off and coughed lightly. He hesitated before continuing. “If a knot is tied in someone’s lifeline, they get stuck in a loop.” Ianto blinked.

“We’re stuck in a loop?” 

“You can say that again.”

“We’re stuck in a loop?” Ianto said, to humor him.

“You can say that again,” John said, grinning a shit-eating grin. Ianto shook his head. Nope, nope, nope. He could be stuck in a bloody time loop with John Hart. That was Jack’s job, not his. Oh god, when they got out of this, Jack was gonna have a laugh.

“Are you sure?” Ianto asked. John’s smile instantly faded, and he nodded.

“It’s happened to me before. I know how it feels.” John sighed and bent to pick up his fallen guns. “This has got to be a record of some sort. Poor sod gets stuck in yet another time loop.” He tucked his guns back in his belt, then ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck.”

“So how do we get out?” Ianto asked, projecting confidence he didn’t actually feel. John was the expert, and if he had given up, well, then they were fucked. John shrugged.

“We wait for someone on the outside to get ahold of the loom and undo the knot,” John explained morosely. He wandered over to the dead dockhand and smirked slightly. He nudged the corpse with his foot, and Ianto winced. “We may be in luck. Does your little team intercept local police calls?” Ianto nodded.

“Gwen’s old partner forwards on anything relevant,” Ianto said. “And Jack knows we were down at the docks.”

“He also knows that we were after the loom,” John added. “So add that to him being unable to reach you on your primitive comlink, and he’ll be hunting down anything that even vaguely resembles a Theatís before you could say, well, Theatís.” Ianto allowed himself to smile, just slightly. 

“So how long will the loop last then? Each cycle, I mean,” Ianto asked. John shrugged. 

“Can’t be sure until it resets.” Ianto frowned, then pulled out his stopwatch. He clicked it and smiled. 

“Always at the ready,” Ianto said proudly. John laughed.

“That’ll reset too, Eye Candy. But good effort.” John sauntered closer, and Ianto had to resist the urge to step away. John must have sensed his nervousness because he stopped right on the boundary of too close. “It’s alright. You’ll learn the rules quickly; you’re smart.” Ianto felt a twinge of pride, then stifled it. He didn’t want to accept anything from John, compliments or otherwise. 

“But the most important thing is this.” He tapped his temple. “The only thing you keep on a reset is your mind, your memories. You can’t afford to get attached to anything physical. All you have is yourself.”

“And you,” Ianto said before he could stop himself. “We’re in this together.” John nodded with a laugh.

“I’ll be your best friend and your worst enemy.” He slung an arm over Ianto’s shoulders. “We’ll probably kill each other a few times apiece, share things you never intended to tell another soul, do things you’d never do otherwise-” He trailed fingers down Ianto’s chest, and Ianto grabbed his hand hard enough to break it.

“I will not shag you,” Ianto said firmly. “I don’t care how fucking long we’re stuck here.” John sighed and pulled his hand back.

“Whatever you say. Let me know if you change your mind.” He winked and thankfully stepped away. Ianto mumbled something under his breath about cocky Time Agents, and John grinned. “Now, come on. Let’s go get wasted.”

“Shouldn’t we be sober so we can tell when it resets?” Ianto asked. John laughed, loud and long, echoing in the space.

“Oh, you’ll know when it resets. We can worry about measuring it later,” John said, waving a dismissive hand. Ianto sighed, but followed John as he started to trek out of the warehouse. “We have all the time in the world, Eye Candy.”

“For once, I wish you were lying.”

* * *

Jack was pissed. When John came to town telling tales of a Moirai loom, Jack was ready to hunt it down himself. But John refused to be left out of it, and Ianto refused to let them go off alone. Somehow that had left him cooling his heels in his office while John and Ianto went on a loom hunt. Needless to say, the others kept their distance from the irritable captain.

It had been over an hour, and Jack was starting to get worried when his mobile rang. He snatched it up instantly.

“What took you so long?” Jack demanded, trying not to sound like the worried lover he knew he was. Gwen cleared her throat on the other end of the line, and Jack winced.

“I got a call from PC Andy; they got a 999 call from the docks.” Jack sat bolt upright in his chair. Where John and Ianto went. Shit.

“What did the caller say?” Jack asked, shoulder pressing his mobile to his ear as he struggled into his coat with the other arm.

“He said there was an intruder in his warehouse, but he hung up on the operator and went in to investigate himself,” Gwen relayed. Jack rolled his eyes. Idiot.

“Alright. Tell Tosh and Owen to get ready to go.” Jack ordered, managing to get his other arm into the coat.

“Tosh?” Gwen asked. Jack nodded, then realized Gwen couldn’t see him.

“If it’s a problem with the tech they went to retrieve, I’ll need her expertise. You can watch the Hub, right?” Jack said, his tone daring her to argue. He swore he could hear her consider it.

“Yes,” Gwen said finally. “But Jack, what exactly is this tech-”

“Thank you!” Jack chorused over her and hung up. A little rude, but Jack didn’t want his team to know exactly what they had stumbled into. Not if he could help it. 

The ride to the warehouse was quiet and almost awkward. Jack drove like a bat out of hell, and it wasn’t long before they arrived. Nothing sounded out of the ordinary as they arrived, but that could just mean they’d arrived too late. Jack found himself shifting on his feet while he waited for Tosh and Owen to get out of the SUV.

“I’m getting some strange energy readings,” Tosh reported. “Not Rift energy, but similar.” Jack nodded. 

“We’re going in,” Jack said, drawing his Webley. Inside the warehouse, it was silent but for the thump of the ventilation fans. There were rows upon rows of identical crates that stretched back into darkness. Jack had absolutely no idea where to start looking.

“The energy signature is coming from about a dozen rows down,” Tosh said. Okay, maybe he did have an idea of where to start looking. Jack nodded, and the trio made their way forward. 

Jack didn’t want to think about what they could find. He knew the capabilities of the loom, knew that Ianto could be gone, his literal lifeline cut short. But if they could get there in time... He listened carefully as they walked, listened for any cry for help, or even one of pain. Anything to make sure they weren’t dust in the wind.

Tosh spotted the Theatís first, judging by her sharp intake of breath. It was faced away from them, bat-like wings jutting out dramatically. Owen swore under his breath, and Jack grimaced. He’d tangled with a Theatís before, twice actually. They were fast and ridiculously quick healers. Jack doubted they’d be able to kill it. With luck, they wouldn’t need to.

They inched slowly down the row, hoping to get close to the creature without it noticing their presence. Jack spotted the corpse and almost tripped over his own feet. It was a man and for a few horrible moments, he thought he was too late. But the dead man was platinum blond and stocky, definitely not Ianto or John. Jack felt relief wash over him followed by guilt. That must have been the 999 caller.

Jack’s boot hit a shell casing, and it skittered across the floor. The sound wasn’t much, but it was enough for the Theatís to hear. It turned around, wings and eyes open wide. The Moirai loom was clutched in its hands, and there was absolutely no sign of John or Ianto. Jack squinted at the loom. Opalescent white strings all across, save two, darkened, twisted, and knotted. Fuck.

“Shoot it!” Jack ordered, shoving his own gun back in its holster. “Don’t hit the loom!” He started to run, eyes locked on the loom. If it was destroyed now, Ianto and John would be lost. He had to get it back. So while Owen distracted it with bullets-

Jack jumped and grabbed ahold of the loom, fingers gripping the silver hard enough to dent. The Theatís screeched and took off to avoid Owen’s shots, dragging Jack along with it. Now, this felt familiar.

“Let go!” Jack shouted, in English, then repeated it in the Theatís’ language for good measure. “They are not yours to take!” Jack swung his legs upward and kicked the Theatís in the abdomen. It cried out in pain, and its grip loosened. He couldn’t risk losing his own hold on the loom, so he stuck out his neck and bit the Theatís’ hand. 

It screeched, and suddenly, Jack was free-falling. He clutched the loom to his chest, tried to ignore the taste in his mouth, and hoped that he didn’t fall on Tosh and Owen. He died on impact, skull cracking against the concrete floor.

Jack gasped back to life, hands reaching out for the loom. When he couldn’t feel it, he panicked until he saw Owen standing there, loom wrapped in his arms, undamaged. Jack sighed in relief and accepted Tosh’s help sitting up.

“The Theatís?” he asked, looking around.

“Is that what that bloody thing was?” Owen asked. Jack nodded. “It’s gone. Tried to steal this,” he shifted the loom in his arms, “back, but flew away after a couple of potshots. Guess it wasn’t worth the trouble.” Jack nodded slowly.

“Alright, good. We can handle it later if it sticks around.” Jack pulled himself to his feet. “We’ve got what we needed.”

“Did that do something to John and Ianto?” Tosh asked, looking at the loom with restrained impress. Jack nodded.

“I’ve seen it done before. Since the loom is undamaged, it should be reversible.” Jack approached the loom, Tosh eagerly watching from the side.

“Hurry up, will you? This shit’s heavy,” Owen complained half-heartedly. Jack ignored him. He just had to be careful now. Delicately, he moved white strings out of the way so that he could get at the odd one, well, two, out. They trembled under his touch, life and death at his fingertips. They would have to destroy this once they were done; John had been right about that.

“Here goes nothing,” Jack murmured, suppressing his dread. The hard part was over; all he had to do was move some strings. Easy as pie. In theory. He reached up and gently disconnected the twisted strings from the top. Shoot, he had to undo the knot.

“Tosh, I need your hands,” Jack said. Tosh stepped up. “Be careful not to let them disconnect from the bottom.” She nodded and together, they managed to undo the simple knot. From there, it was easy to untwist and reconnect the now-separated strands. “That should do it.”

They all watched as the repaired threads started to glow white. Jack felt static in the air, and with a pop, Ianto and John appeared. They didn’t seem to notice Jack and the others at first. John bent to pick up the gun by his feet, a twin of the one in his hand.

“What do you say, Tokyo this time?” John asked casually. He holstered his guns then glanced in Jack’s direction. He did a double-take, eyes going wide. 

“Japan, sure,” Ianto agreed, still oblivious. “But not Tokyo. How about Kyoto?” When John didn’t respond, he turned and caught sight of Jack. He froze like a deer in the headlights. They stood there for a moment, everyone staring and no one speaking.

“Please tell me you’re seeing this, Ianto,” John said, glancing sideways. Ianto nodded slowly.

“Unless we’re sharing hallucinations now too, I think we’re out.” Ianto took a hesitant step forward. “Jack?” Jack nodded, taking his own step forward.

“It’s over. Your lifelines are back to normal,” Jack said, grinning slightly. Ianto and John shared a look, and then Ianto all but threw himself into Jack’s arms. 

Physically, nothing had changed since Ianto had left the Hub just over an hour ago. But Ianto clung to him like a barnacle, fingers clawing at Jack’s coat. His thoughts were cut off momentarily by Ianto’s kiss. It was passionate and desperate and absolutely brilliant. Ianto kissed him like they hadn’t kissed in-

Jack pulled back, panting. Oh god. Oh god, he’d known as soon as he’d seen the knotted threads, but now it was _real_. Ianto had been stuck in a time loop for-

“How long?” Jack asked, harsher than he meant to. Ianto looked away, and Jack turned his gaze to John. He looked relaxed but only on the surface. Jack could read the tension in his shoulders, the slight furrow of his brow.

“Not as bad as last time,” John said lightly. “Only two years.” Jack felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. _Two years_. Ianto had been stuck in a time loop (with _John_ ) for longer than Jack had known him. Behind him, Owen cleared his throat.

“Two questions,” he said when Jack turned to look. “First, what the fuck just happened? Second, can I set this down now? I can’t feel my arms.” Jack nodded and Owen dropped the loom. It hit the floor with a satisfying crack, the metal fracturing, but the strings still intact.

“Don’t break it,” Jack protested too late. Owen shrugged.

“No, break it,” Ianto cut in. “That’s too dangerous to keep around.” John nodded and pulled a knife.

“Allow me.” Jack wanted to protest but found that he couldn’t. Smashing the original Moirai loom had been one of the most cathartic experiences of his life. He knew exactly how John felt. So he watched quietly as John stomped on the heart of the machine and slashed the now-useless threads. Tosh had a look on her face like John had just burned down a church, but his smile was vindictive and bright.

“Alright, alien tech smashing over, seriously, what happened, Jack?” Owen asked, fed up. “What did he mean two years?” John looked at Owen, still grinning, but thankfully with the knife away.

“Eye Candy and I have been living the same five days for two years.”

“Five point six,” Ianto corrected. John rolled his eyes fondly.

“Yes, the same five point six days.” He kicked the rubble of the loom at his feet. “That fucking hell trap bound our lifelines together and looped them.”

“It was alright at first,” Ianto said quietly. “We knew you were coming for us, and John taught me how to dampen the link so we didn’t get sucked into feedback loops of negative emotions. It was sort of like a holiday at first, but then it never ended.” Jack frowned. He knew that feeling. But something had confused him.

“Link?” he asked. There hadn’t been any link when he was the one trapped with John. John tilted his head.

“Yeah, a minor empathy link. We could feel each other’s strongest emotions, or at least we could when it was unsuppressed, which wasn’t often,” John grinned. “Ianto wasn’t exactly fond of being hit with overwhelming-”

“John!” Ianto snapped, and to Jack’s surprise, John shut up. Ianto sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It doesn’t matter now, we’re out. Remember?” John rolled his eyes but made a show of zipping his lips.

“Sorry, Jackie, been sworn to secrecy under threat of dismemberment and many other nasty things that I didn’t think your boy had in him,” John said, looking almost apologetic. “There are a lot of things I didn’t think your boy would’ve had in him.” That comment got him a death glare from Ianto, but it slid off him like water off a duck’s back.

“What happens in the time loop stays in the time loop, huh?” Jack said, his tone gently teasing. Inside, he was torn, pulled in three different directions. 

Captain Harkness wanted to demand a full report, maybe find a way to prevent a disaster in the next five days. Jack wanted Ianto to be safe, didn’t want to make him recount anything, but he also wanted to know what he should murder John for. He knew exactly the kind of intimacy time loops could bring. And Javic, the little piece of him that remembered his own years in a loop, well, he just wanted to wake up from the nightmare.

“Exactly,” Ianto said firmly. “No permanent damage, we can just move on.”

“Oi, I’ll be the judge of that,” Owen cut in. “Ianto, you’re coming with me. Him too. Full work-ups, and we’ll see if living with Jack’s ex has given you anything terminal.”

“Little chance of that,” John scoffed. “Eye Candy’s the textbook definition of faithful. You got a good one, Jack, he’s very hard to tempt. Although, there was that time in Amsterdam- Ow!” Jack laughed as John rubbed his arm where Ianto had slugged him.

“I meant what I said about dismemberment,” Ianto said, his tone calm and cordial. “Try it again, and I’ll need to borrow your sword.” It really was a talent to threaten to maim someone in the same tone you would use to order a cup of tea.

“Fine, fine,” John said, raising his arm to flip open his vortex manipulator. “Now that this baby works again, I’m gonna go… anywhere but twenty-first-century Earth. I’m fairly certain I’ve seen everything worth seeing.” He started to put in coordinates but was stopped by Ianto’s hand on his arm.

“Stick around?” Ianto asked quietly, Jack could barely hear him. “At least for a little while?” John’s eyes lit up, but he sighed melodramatically and shut his vortex manipulator.

“As you wish.” John’s hand covered Ianto’s for a moment, then both men seemed to remember their surroundings and moved apart. Jack felt a pang of jealousy. Of course, they were close now. But there was a difference between knowing it and seeing it. “Might as well make sure this isn’t some sick trick of the loom.”

“It’s real,” Jack said, huffing just a little. Nothing could simulate the exact mixture of emotions currently threatening to pull him apart at the seams. John turned to him with a suggestive raise of the eyebrow.

“Well, there’s always one way to confirm it,” John said, stepping closer. Before Jack could blink, John was kissing him, one hand cradling the back of his neck. It was just as passionate as Ianto’s kiss, but there was no connection, no love between them. Not anymore. As John pulled back, Jack wondered when love had entered the equation for him and Ianto.

“Definitely real,” John declared triumphantly. Jack looked at Ianto, expecting to see jealousy, but his eyes sparkled with fond amusement.

“I could have told you that,” Ianto complained half-heartedly. John just grinned.

“Yes, yes, now that we’ve all had a snog, can we please get back to the Hub?” Owen asked. “It’s bloody cold in here.”

“Sure,” Jack responded easily. Inside, his emotions still churned like a maelstrom, but Ianto was here, alive, and Jack apparently loved him. Everything else could be dealt with.

“But you haven’t all had a snog!” John said, grinning mischievously. He sidled up to Tosh and gave her a peck, causing her face to flare deep red. He turned his sights on Owen, who swore and backed away. But John snuck up and kissed him too, cupping his face in his hands. He pulled back, picked up the remains of the Moirai loom, then was halfway down the row before Jack’s brain caught up.

“Meet you back at the car!” John called, voice ringing down the aisle. Jack tried not to laugh at Owen’s face, a mixture of outrage and curiosity. Tosh was intently staring at the ground, still blushing. Now that was a John Hart trademark, the ability to leave anyone speechless and bewildered, for good reasons or bad.

“How did you handle that?” Owen asked, finally finding his voice. Ianto shrugged.

“You get used to it. And you have to admit, he’s good with his mouth.” Ianto gave Jack’s hand a squeeze, then walked off, following the flare of John’s coat. Jack stared for a moment before laughing, long and hard. Oh, Ianto Jones, tamer of Time Agents. He’d stolen Jack’s heart, and Jack was glad to give it.


End file.
